


The First Sister

by MontyBeth



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Inquisitors origin story, The Dark Side of the Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontyBeth/pseuds/MontyBeth
Summary: Before the echoes of Rebellion, before even the fall of the Jedi, there was another who found Solace in the pull of the Dark Side. Before she became the First Sister of the Inquisition, she was Alma Twill, fledgling Jedi Knight. Follow her journey to the forbidden in this rewrite of a 2016 story.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Loyalties

When the summon to stand before the Jedi Council had come, a tiny seed of worry had been planted in the heart of Alma Twill, Coruscant's newest Jedi Knight.

That seed only grew as the council looked down at her, twisting and coalescing into a clump that sat in her stomach, as the council laid out the largest mission of her Jedi career.

Of course, that Jedi career had not been a long one. Her hand drifted to a lock of dark brown hair behind her right ear that was shorter than the rest, where until mere weeks ago her padawan braid had hung.

"Do you understand what we're asking of you, Knight Twill?" Jedi Master Mace Windu was leaning forward in his seat, as Alma noted he did when stressing something of utmost importance.

"Yes Master." She nodded. Don't let them see your doubt, you confusion.

Ki-Adi-Mundi shifted in his seat. "This is a very important task for you, young Jedi. It is of utmost importance in these times that the Chancellor remain safe."

Alma had never met Chancellor Palpatine. She had heard his addresses and such from the massive holoboards of Coruscant, but she had never met the man. And now she was to be entrusted with his life.

"Worried about your inexperience, you are." Master Yoda observed. Despite the seriousness of the situation, his eyes still same warmth Alma remembered from her Youngling days. Alma nodded weakly, trying to remain both honest and collected.

"You won't be alone, Twill." Master Kenobi spoke now. "General Skywalker will be assuming most of the responsibility, but Anakin can't do this alone."

Alma coughed to hide the gasp that rose in her throat.

Anakin Skywalker. One of the most powerful Jedi to ever live. A man who had led armies into hundreds of battles and was rumored to be the chosen one. And yet she, a newly bestowed Knight with little experience was supposed to assist him? What assistance was she exactly supposed to _do,_ polish his lightsabers?

Stars and prophets, Alma was hardly older than that the Padawan he'd lost! Was this is a ruse, then? Did the council think she needed more training, and that Skywalker could provide... what, another mentor?

Alma had never met the man, but word traveled fast between chatty padawans in the temple.

"If I may, Masters, why me?" the phrase was out of her mouth before she could stop them, that vine of doubt creeping into her words.

"It's alright, Alma." Shaak Ti raised a hand, and with it, halted the growth of that terrible vine.

"Your master described you as the most loyal padawan she'd ever encountered."

Her master. Samwin Unarin, a human like her, but so much kinder, so much braver than her. Why didn't they pick Samwin for this? _Why did they pick her?_

"Strength is but one part of being a Jedi. Kindness and loyalty is important as well."

Alma swallowed. "I understand, Masters. If you have this much faith in me, then I can do it. I accept. "

"Then dismissed, this council is."

* * *

Outside the council chamber, Jedi Master Samwin Unarin crouched to talk with a group of younglings. Her red hair was braided back, but sprigs of curly hair fell loose and framed her face. The younglings were chattering excitedly about the new system of planets they were studying, and Samwin was asking them questions, her freckled face and animated expressions making her look like a youngster again, despite having trained two padawan herself.

"Dewbacks, huh? What other kinds of animals live on desert planets?"

"Um... krayyt dragons... and uh..." a little togrunta boy no more than six stammered.

"...and banthas!" finished a little girl.

"That's great!" Samwin smiled. The door to the council room opened, and Samwin stood up.

The younglings, sensing Samwin had more important duties to attend to, left with a cheerful goodbye.

Samwin merged with the crowd of Jedi leaving the council room, falling into step by her friend and former padawan. "How was it?" She asked, putting a supportive hand on her shoulder.

Alma rubbed her temples. "Master, I'm not sure you want to know."

The two younglings watched the pair, admiration glowing in their eyes. "I hope Master Samwin is my master when I'm a padawan."

"Well she's gonna be mine." countered the boy.

"Nuh-uh, I'm gonna be padawan before you!"

* * *

"The Chancellor?" Samwin exclaimed in equal parts shock and disbelief. "and along Master Skywalker too?"

"I'm having trouble believing it myself." Alma remarked.

The duo had decided to go for a walk around the shopping district of Coruscant to catch up. Wearing brown cloaks to avoid unwanted attention, they navigated through shopkeeps and booths closing up as the sun set.

"This is such an excellent opportunity for you, Alma. The Jedi Council must have big plans for you. Still a shortlock and you get to serve alongside Skywalker."

"Shortlock?"

"Ah, sorry. It's what the Jedi Knights called me when I was knighted. My master had cut my padawan braid at such an awkward angle that it took forever to grow back." Samwin laughed, and Alma couldn't help but join too.

They were two Jedi, two generals in a war. Two lives that at any day could end in the war they fought. But in that moment, in the setting sun on Coruscant, they were friends again, laughing at silly nicknames and then nothing at all. Laughing for the sake of laughing, to forget the lives lost, the sacrifices made. Laughing to be happy for once in a harsh world that offered no peace.

In that moment, Samwin wished better for her friend.


	2. In the Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alma's reflects on home. Her first day on the job doesn't go to plan.

Alma awoke early the first day of her new calling. She spent a good hour in meditation, focusing on that terrible sense of inadequacy - that unease that still hadn't left her.

She succeeded at least in taming the beast for the moment, and now more annoyed at herself than anything, stood and dressed.

Jedi didn't own a lot of possessions, so Alma's morning routine didn't usually take too long, but this morning she did pause, eyeing her armor. She didn't wear it around the temple - no reason to. 

Would a Jedi in armor be a comfort or an agitator? 

She decided to ponder it as she reached for and cleaned her lightsabers, clipping them onto her belt.

A Jedi's lightsaber was their most prized possession, and Alma had two. She had carefully designed them herself, a fusion of the traditional lightsaber and the weapons used by the warriors from her own planet - Taksgar, a curious little planet.

Each of her lightsabers featured a steel blade, which extended from the hilt and curved around like a handguard. Carefully etched into the metal in her native script was a reminder to the young Jedi. On the right - _trust in the force,_ and on the left - _trust in yourself_.

Truth be told, Alma missed Taksgar. A little planet just off the outer rim with a synchronous orbit, only part of the planet was even inhabitable. One half of the planet was constantly lit, while the other never saw sunlight. Less than half a million people lived on Taksgar, and most of them were very old and had never traveled off world - her generation, they were explorers. They had left, unsatisfied with the stagnant society of the little place.

Alma remembered the first time she saw a sunset, clutching closely to the hand of the Jedi that had collected her from Taksgar, a man named Joclad Danva. Broken hearted over leaving her family and tired from the long journey, poor Alma had been terrified of the sunset, bursting into tears.

She had explained to Danva, as she wiped the tears from her eyes (mortified at how the other younglings stared at her) that she didn't know she would learn to be a Jedi on the dark side of the planet.

Danva, bless his heart, had taken a knee and explained the orbit of the planet, about night and day.

Even now, sunsets still fascinated her, although not quite to the fearful degree they once did.

They reminded her of Danva. But he was gone now, one with the force, lost on Geonosis.

With his kind smile in her mind, Alma began the process of putting on the armor.

 _Better safe than sorry_.

* * *

Armored beneath her robe, Alma entered the business district of Coruscant. A bustling place, she took the hood of her robe down to get a better view. Business people and senators walked in groups or alone, chatting in a million different languages. She nearly bumped into a group of Rodians while admiring the architecture of the Galactic Senate Building. 

Entering, she joined a line for admittance. She chuckled a little. Since she hadn’t yet received a pass for entrance, the Jedi Knight had to wait in line behind tourists.

Alma finally received her pass for future use and was shown to the Chancellor’s office by a Twi’leck secretary. “He’ll be right in, he’s in a meeting.” She explained.

And so she entered the spacious room. Most of the room was empty, with a desk and chair in front of a gigantic window. There were two sofas and a table in between, but other than that the room had no furnishings. 

Truth be told, she was a little taken aback by it all - or rather, the _lack_ of all of it. Politicians were excessive, lavish. This didn't line up with that view at all.

Alma stood there beside one of the sofas, feeling quite out of place. After a few minutes, she stood up and went to look out the window, the temptation too great to pass up.

“Lovely, isn't it?” The voice of Chancellor Palpatine startled Alma a little, but she managed to hide it. She turned to face the Chancellor, who was wearing a smile. “Alma Twill, I presume? My, you're so young!”

Alma offered a stiff bow and an awkward smile. “I was only just knighted recently.”

“Oh, my apologies! Of course.” Palpatine laughed. “I didn't imagine they’d send such a young lady.” His eyes sparkled, and he offered his hand to shake.

Alma took the hand and shook it, feeling her anxiety start to dissipate. “The Jedi Council feels that I can handle this responsibility, Chancellor.” She hoped that didn't sound rude.

At this point, a man in Jedi armor entered the room to stand behind the Chancellor - and all that worry shot right back into Alma.

Alma was tall, but the few inches he had over her seemed to be four times as much. He looked at her with disinterest, until his eyes landed on her lightsabers. His eyes flashed, and he made brief eye contact with Alma.

She grit her teeth. She would not be intimidated.

“Well, I trust the Council’s decisions in these sort of things.” Palpatine swished his hand about in the air and turned to the man behind him. “Ah, Anakin. Have you two met before?”

 _That_ was Anakin Skywalker?

“I don't believe we have.” Anakin replied cooly.

“Well, I’ll let you two talk.” Palpatine headed to his desk, and Alma followed Anakin to stand by the door. 

She was still unsure how to feel about the strange Chancellor. He seemed friendly enough. But why did Skywalker seem so needlessly hostile towards her?

No sooner were they out of earshot than Anakin began interrogating her in an angry whisper. “Why are you here? Who are you reporting to?"

Alma could only blink in surprise, absolutely shocked by the man before her. General Skywalker? He was downright… _bitchy_. 

Alma’s brow furrowed, but she kept her voice even. "Well, my apologies for the confusion, Skywalker. I'm here to protect the Chancellor.”

"Did you miss a message from the council?" She added, unnecessarily saccharine. "You seem a little paranoid."

That earned her a warning finger in her face. “You watch your mouth, padawan.”

Alma’s cheeks went red as she pressed the hand away. “I’m actually a Jedi Knight. Now that’s the same rank as you, so you can stop being so snippy. We have a job to do - and I'm not going to let your insecurity ruin that."

Going by the look on his face, Alma supposed it'd been awhile since anyone had scolded him like that. 

Sure, Alma was young for a Jedi Knight, passing the trials in 8 years instead of the typical 10 or more, but she certainly didn't look like a padawan. This man was being rude for the sake of it. And what’s more, he only looked a year or two older than her. 

_Kindness and loyalty._

Shaak-Ti's voice floated back to her, and she sighed.

“Why don't we start over.” She offered, holding out her hand. “I'm Alma Twill, Jedi Knight. And you are?”

“Anakin Skywalker.” He smirked, crossed his arms, and looked her over. “I suppose you're alright.” With this he turned, striding back over the Chancellor's desk.

Exasperated, Alma rubbed her temples. What a strange man.

* * *

The next item of business was a Senate meeting. The Senate Chamber was huge. Thousands of senators met here, representing hundreds of worlds. Alma secretly hoped for a chance to speak with some of them.

She had excelled in languages as a padawan learner, and would have enjoyed a chance to use them.

Anakin and Alma both joined this meeting, standing quietly in a pod behind the Chancellor and Vice Chair. While Alma watched the proceedings with a quiet sort of wonder - (she couldn't help it, there were so many planets represented here!) Anakin seemed… bored. His loss.

The Senate was voting on something trivial, a bill on tariffs to outlying planets. Alma inwardly smiled as she noticed the planets fighting to lower the tariffs included Taksgar. Since the planet was so small, they shared a seat in the Senate with two other small planets nearby. She even recognized the senator - Taksgar really just was that small.

However, even cheerful Alma found herself a little stir crazy by the time the meeting drew to a close - nothing seemed to get done. Senators argued and compromised, drafted and edited, and… reached no visible agreement.

Politics was a game Alma could pass on.

* * *

As the Senate left the Chamber, the Chancellor was approached by many senators and representatives. Most of them simply congratulated the Chancellor - on what exactly, Alma didn't follow. 

A rising sense of unease was creeping into her - bleeding off of someone else. Two representatives from Corellia were waiting to speak to the Chancellor - it wasn't them.

Anakin? No.

She glanced from senator to senator, and then - there. The source. A besalisk man. Correllian senator.

Turning to Anakin, she dropped her voice to a low enough level that it would be unnoticeable by others. “Look at the besalisk senator.” she murmured urgently. “He’s unreasonably anxious.”

“He’s a new Senator. Last one was killed in a xenophobic attack. Wouldn't you be?"

Anakin's flippant attitude didn't calm her fears, and so she kept an eye on the senator. He was talking to the human representative of Corellia.

Palpatine began to move past the Correlians, and the besalisk began to reach for something in the bag hanging at his hip. 

Alma’s left hand reached for her lightsaber. 

_Trust in yourself_. 

When the grip of a blaster presented itself, Alma was ready.

Shoving the Correllians aside, she closed the distance with a few quick steps Alma’s free hand reached out to grab the besalisk’s upper right wrist and squeezed. 

_Besalisks have hollow bones._

The wrist made a cracking noise as the bones shattered with the even pressure. Between the clatter of the blaster and the horrible cracking, every eye in the chamber turned to look.

As she held the massive wrist of the besalisk in her hand, Alma quietly thanked her earlier self for wearing the armor.

There was silence for half a second, but then the pain registered in the besalisk and he struck out with his three remaining arms, giving a loud cry. One of the huge fists connected with Alma’s right cheek with a hollow thud. She stumbled back a few steps.

The hall erupted into chaos, and as Alma gathered herself, Anakin guided the Chancellor and several senators into a meeting room, locking the door. 

Alma weaved through panicking politicians back to the besalisk, feeling adrenaline course through her.

She took out her other lightsaber, but didn't ignite the blades.

"You're under ar-" Her warning was cut short, as pain shot through her jaw. That's right, she had gotten punched about 15 seconds ago. Think, Twill.

She went into a defensive stance. He probably got the idea.

As the besalisk shouted some profanities at her and continued to try and turn her into Jedi jelly, she used the guards to block the besilisk’s blows.

The guards were sharp, but they weren't exactly razor sharp, and they were only leaving nicks in the besalisk's fists. Alma hoped they wouldn't bend - but at least in his anger, he'd seemed to have forgotten the blaster. 

Anakin ran beside her, his lightsaber fully drawn, and Alma suddenly remembered she wasn't alone. “What are you doing?” She hissed. “Protect the Chancellor!”

“He's fine! Get up to his head.” Anakin ordered.

“Don't hit him with the blade!” She ordered back, breaking into a run. Stars, her jaw hurt.

She took a wide loop around the besalisk. He started to turn, but Anakin drew his attention again with a light burn to his knee. It was enough for the besalisk to lurch forward. 

Alma seized the opportunity to jump, feet forward. She kicked, and the besalisk stumbled. She twisted to land on her feet, crouching to regain her balance, and the the gigantic four armed alien fell.

Anakin lowered his lightsaber to the would-be-assassin's throat and glowered down at him. "Make my day."

He didn't - and when the guards eventually made their way in, they were able to slap two pairs of cuffs on him and lead him out.

Alma stood up and faced Anakin. “Good plan.” She winced as she said it, the fleeting adrenaline making the pain even worse.

“You got hit pretty hard.” He observed. “Is it dislocated?”

She nodded, and supported it with her hand. She could feel it protruding forward.

“Here, I'll reset it.” Anakin placed his thumbs on the underside of her jaw.

 _He’s got a prosthesis under that._ Alma realised, feeling the absence of flesh underneath his glove. 

Anakin must have noticed Alma’s reaction, because he quickly snapped her jaw back and drew back his hands. “There, better?”

Alma clenched her teeth, the nerves in her cheek and neck on fire. She raised a hand to her jaw and focused, using the age old Jedi healing techniques. It’d hold for a while, but she'd still check in with a med droid when she got back.

"...thank you."

"Well don't talk, that'll hurt like hell."

That's right. Even when he was trying to be kind, Anakin Skywalker was still a jerk.

As Alma rubbed her sore jaw, Anakin retrieved the Chancellor from the safe room he had left him in, and together they headed back to the office.

“Excellent work, my dear.” The Chancellor congratulated her, seemingly unfazed by the situation. “Thanks to your quick actions, you've saved my life.”

“I didn't expect a senator would strike out like that.” Alma admitted.

The Chancellor frowned. “Ah, but worst threats come from those you trust. Senator Lun and I had met not two days ago. Now were you hurt at all, either of you?”

"...not me, but Twill…"  
  


* * *

"Alma, what happened?” 

Naturally, as soon as Alma had returned to the Jedi Temple, Samwin quickly learned of her injury. It was pointless to ask how she had found out, but Alma at least suspected the ever present youngling population reported to her, like a ringleader.

“I stopped a Senator from Correlia that was going to shoot the Chancellor.” Alma explained. She was sitting in the med bay, a med droid scanning her now slightly swollen cheek. 

Samwin crossed her arms. “Alright, but why are you here?”

“Dislocated jaw.” Alma admitted. “He didn't exactly want to be stopped.”

“Must’ve been one strong senator.” Samwin mused. “Look at these charts…”

The med droid waved her off, it's protocols not allowing for outside influence. 

“He was a besalisk.”

“You fought a besalisk?” Samwin clarified. “Alma, you were lucky to just get a dislocated jaw. He could have snapped you in half!”

“Well I wasn't alone, Master.” Alma explained how Anakin had distracted the Senator, allowing for her to attack.

“That Skywalker.” Samwin shook her head softly. “To be honest, Alma, he’s lucky to have you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin Skywalker, meet me outside the Denny's. I just want to talk.


	3. Festivities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gang goes to Naboo, where Alma outs herself as a plant mom. Anakin is a nerd. Padmé is uncomfortable. Palpatine is there.

_Some parts of this job are actually pretty great._ Alma mused. 

Chancellor Palpatine had been asked to attend some sort of festival on Naboo, and so he had taken Anakin and Alma along for protection. It was a little unnatural for the Jedi to be inside a ship with so much room. Star cruisers and transports were bustling with admirals and clone troopers. This shuttle was a theta class, and it had enough room for a rancor to fit lying down. That is, if you removed all the equipment. Two curved seats occupied the center of the shuttle around a table. Alma sat on one, leaving an empty seat by her for the Senator they were also traveling with. At the moment she was acquainting herself with the small crew and checking the exits. _Possibly out of nervous habit,_ Alma noted. Chancellor Palpatine was occupied with what appeared to be his speech, typed into a holo-computer. 

Alma was excited to attend the festivities she had heard so much about from her Naboo friends. She didn't even try to hide her grin as she sat in the Chancellor's shuttle across from Anakin. Speaking of Anakin, he seemed in a genuinely good mood. Well, good for Anakin. The scowl on his face was a lesser one than usual.

“What’s got you so happy?” he demanded. 

Alma laughed. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Anakin crossed his arms and glared at her, but there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“I’ve never actually been to a festival before.” Alma admitted. 

“Oh, you'll enjoy the Festival of Lights, my dear.” The Chancellor looked up his computer to smile at her. “Everyone does. We come together to celebrate the day that Naboo joined the Republic.”

Alma looked over her shoulder as she heard the approaching footsteps of the Naboo senator. Anakin stood up, and Alma quickly followed his lead. The only other senator she’d met tried to pound her into the marble floors. She racked her brain for the lessons on etiquette taught long ago by padawans who would rather be somewhere else.

“Ah, Padmé, there you are.” Anakin walked towards her. A barely concerned smile on his face. Alma almost snorted. Where did the sassy, whiny Jedi Knight go?

“I was just familiarising myself with the shuttle.” Padmé explained. Her eyes drifted to Alma, and her eyes flashed confusion. She raised her eyebrow and tilted her head towards Alma a little, inviting Anakin to introduce her. 

Anakin didn't catch the hint, and Alma felt a twinge of second hand embarrassment. She stepped forward. “Senator, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Alma Twill.”

Padmé smiled a little awkwardly. “Likewise. I wasn't aware Master Skywalker had taken on another padawan, after the las….” She chose to stop that sentence, aware perhaps that the tips of Alma’s ears were turning pink. Why did everyone think she was a padawan? She didn't have the braid, and she was taller than some wookies, for crying out loud.

“I’m a Jedi Knight, senator. I’ll be protecting both you and the Chancellor on this voyage.” Alma silently cursed her ears. Sure, she had sort of mastered the art of controlling her emotions, but her ears hadn't caught on. She considered wearing her hair down. But of course then it would get in her face and make fighting difficult. 

“Well, thank you, Knight Twill.” Padmé smiled, less awkwardly this time.

Padmé took her seat, and the four of them participated in some idle conversation. Alma was intrigued. For politicians, both the Chancellor and Senator… whatever her surname was- seemed to be fairly normal people. But then again, Alma’s interaction with people had been pretty limited, since the only friends she had were all Jedi, or worked in the temple.

The shuttle arrived at Naboo in very little time at all. Alma finally learned the Senator’s surname was Amidala, thanks to the Chancellor referring to her as such. She wondered how long she and Anakin had known each other. They seemed close, to be calling each other by their first names. 

Alma didn't pack much for the event. Being a Jedi meant having few worldly possessions, after all. Senator Amidala, on the other hand, had several bags. Alma lent her assistance to carry them, wondering all the time how a woman could require so much for a short stay.

* * *

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Alma asked.

Anakin looked at her like she had sprouted an extra head. “You don't have to. It’d be better than walking alone.”

The Senator and the Chancellor had an important dinner to attend. This event was sufficiently guarded, so Alma and Anakin had the night off. They had just been dismissed when Alma realised she didn't have anything to do. 

Anakin frowned. “No. I’m going to be going over the plans for tomorrow.”

He brushed past her, and Alma mentally sighed. He was so touchy. “Come on, Skywalker. I haven't gotten to know you. How on earth am I supposed to tell if some assassin droid tries to imitate you someday?” Anakin glared at her. Was that a sore spot? Assassin droids? Alma made a note to never bring that up again.

And so Anakin never really agreed to come, he just sort of did. They entered the street, where vendors and street performers were setting up for the next day’s festivities. 

"So have you ever been to the festival before?” Alma asked as they passed a Marching band made up of exhausted Naboo students. Some of them turned to look at the Jedi passing. A lanky gungan elbowed his neighbor, who stared slack-jawed at the lightsabers hanging at their belts. Alma waved, smiling, and the two students snapped back to attention.

“Once. I was a kid.” Anakin answered, either ignoring or not noticing the band kids staring.

Alma wrinkled her nose. “Did you grow up here, then?”

“No.”

“So where _are_ you from?” Alma was idly curious. Anakin was only a few years older than her, yet she couldn't remember seeing him in youngling training, or as a padawan. Maybe he was from the outer rim too. Occasionally force sensitive children were missed in those sorts of planets. 

“Nowhere important. You?” Anakin finally answered. 

Alma realised that during her entire internal speculation on Anakin's home, they’d been walking in silence. Despite Anakin's broody non-answer, she was determined to have a good time, and so she picked up her shoulders and answered.

“Taksgar. It’s a little planet, just off the outer rim.” Alma explained about the quaint way the planet's orbit and axis were identical as they strolled past some vendors setting up small potted plants.

“As far as I know, I’m the only Jedi from Taksgar. She paused, eyeing the plant stand. "Do you mind? I want to take a look at these."

Anakin looked confused. "The plants?"

"Well, yeah. I like plants." She felt a little silly, her ears burning again, but she shook it off, waving at the man setting up and crouching to look at the plants.

Anakin, to his credit, didn't ask more questions, as Alma made her way through the booth, admiring each flower, fern and… well, some things she hadn't seen before. 

Her eye was drawn to a hanging plant with bright blue leaves. She smiled gently. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"...the color's nice." Anakin offered, although he looked a little lost. "Are you going to buy it?"

She shook her head. "I didn't bring any credits with me. It's alright, I have a veritable rainforest in my quarters." She ran a finger along the leaves, before turning and walking out.

Anakin cleared his throat. "...why?"

"Pardon?" She turned to see him now investigating the plant.

"Why do you keep them?"

"...I don't know, it's just nice to care for something. Watch it grow." She offered. The booth owner nodded in approval to her answer.

Anakin also seemed to accept that answer. "I build things, in my spare time." He stated, turning away from the plant and walking towards Alma.

"Oh, like carpentry?" She asked.

"Droids. Electronics." He corrected. "Things like that. It's nice to be able to control the outcome of things."

"...you're right." She realized. "That's what it is, about plants. Plus, it reminds me of home."

"Of Taksgar?" 

Oh, so he _was_ listening. "I know we're supposed to leave everything behind, but I miss it sometimes. Little planet out in the middle of nowhere." She smiled wistfully.

"How'd the Jedi even find you?"

"Some crazy criminal tried to hide out on the planet. Unfortunately, everyone on Taksgar knows each other. When the Jedi showed up, we’d already figured him out.” She laughed. “I was just a toddler then. That's when I met Joclad Danva. He saw something in me - he was just a padawan, himself. He came back six years later as a knight and took me to the temple.”

“Danva?” Anakin seemed actually interested. He was searching for that name. “The martial artist.”

“He practiced Teräs Käsi, yeah. It’s what inspired me to learn unarmed combat.” Alma admitted. “It was helpful with that Besalisk senator.” 

She rubbed her jaw. It still clicked sometimes.

“I’ll stick with my lightsaber.” Anakin replied. “How’d Danva manage both?”

“He learned Niman. He was a master of Teräs Käsi, he didn't really use his lightsaber more than he had to.” Alma admitted. 

Niman - one of the simplest forms of lightsaber fighting. It was a jack-of-all-trades. It didn't have any advantages or weakness, and for a peace-keeping jedi, was more than enough.

“Isn’t he one of the Masters teaching the clones?” Anakin asked. Clone assassins did use Teräs Käsi, after all.

“He was part of the Geonosian strike team.” Alma said quietly. 

No further explanation was needed. Only a handful of Niman-practicing Jedi walked out of Geonosis alive. 

She silently chastised herself. He probably felt guilty. After all, part of that mission was rescuing him.

They were at the end of the pier now, and Alma paused. Should they start walking back?

But Anakin gestured over to a bench, and she gratefully took a seat.

“So how long have you known Senator Amidala?” She quickly changed the subject. 

Anakin answered just as vaguely as before. “A while. Who was your Master?” He changed the subject back, either ignoring or unaware of Alma's efforts. She noted how he lounged in the bench, while she sat up straight. _Some Jedi_.

“Samwin Unarin.” Alma responded right away, it was a question she was used to being asked. “I was her second padawan, so she sort of knew what she was doing.”

Anakin laughed a little. He laughed. 

Alma was a little startled, then kind of pleased. “I think she’s planning a third. She’ll be as old as Master Yoda one day and will still be toting along some kid.”

“She’s like a mother, isn't she?” Anakin said casually. 

A mother. Alma stopped. Why did that affect her so much?

Anakin stood. “We should head back, the dinner's almost over.”

* * *

The group met up outside the banquet hall. Dinner had gone on nicely, from what Padmé chattered to Anakin about. The Chancellor seemed as refined as usual, nodding his head occasionally. When Padmé stopped for breath, the Chancellor spoke. “If I may, I’ll send Miss Twill to watch over Senator Amidala’s room, and keep young Skywalker with me.” Alma nodded. She expected as much. 

Other female senators arriving for the festival would also be staying in the spacious suite. Having Anakin there would probably frighten them much more than any actual threat. He just had that effect.

“I’ll show you the way, Alma.” Padmé offered, removing a room key from the pocket of her gown. Alma followed her quietly. Her mind was still reeling over what Anakin had said about Samwin.

_She’s like a mother, isn't she?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day Alma will catch a break.


	4. Cause for Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé is sick. Alma helps.

Alma stood guard at Padmé’s door, watching diplomats and janitors alike pass through the halls. She kept a straight face, though internally she was still contemplating Anakin’s words. Surely Anakin couldn't have known Samwin very well. So why then did he laugh as if they were good friends?

She shook her head gently, clearing the thoughts from her head. She had other things to attend to. Two senators, a queen, and three handmaidens were all inside that room. She had to protect it. 

She nodded to the Pantoran senator who entered. She was a nice girl. 

It was the first day of the festival. The event was celebrated with live music and a parade. Alma made a note to ask Anakin if he'd seen the Marching band that had gawked at them the day before. 

Anakin had gone with the group as their escort, and Alma stayed behind to guard the diplomats who stayed behind to write speeches or whatever diplomats did. She had a halfway decent conversation with the Queen, a kind-hearted woman from Alderaan. All in all, Alma’s view of politicians was changing. 

The group who went out to the festivities didn't arrive back until very late. The others had all retired, and Alma had been watching an empty hall for several hours. She had been passing time by mentally reciting everything from Jedi mantra to children's songs, but she stood up as Padmé approached the door. 

Alma couldn't help but notice the Senator's pale face. “Are you alright?” she asked gently. 

Padmé nodded and entered, wobbling slightly. She was holding her stomach. A brief thought of alcohol crossed Alma’s mind, but she shook it off. The Senator was respectable, and surely wouldn't drink herself into a stupor. The only other options were an illness, or poisoning.

Alma entered the room, where Padmé had made it to the couch. She had taken off the heavier parts of her robes, and was now wearing the lighter dress. Her eyes were half closed, and she was slumped against the back of the couch. Alma’s concern grew. “Senator?” she asked. 

Padmé sat up, clearly startled. Alma ignored this. “You aren't well. What did you have tonight? Where did you go?”

_She needed to call Anakin, or the Chancellor. Wait, no. Not Anakin. He wasn't her keeper, she could handle this._

“No, … I’m fine.” Padmé muttered, obviously in some pain.

“Senator, I need to make sure you haven't been poisoned.” Alma stressed. She held a hand to Padmé's forehead, reaching out with the force.

Alma was… not the most force sensitive of force sensitive people. It was definitely her most crippling weakness, and she hated not being able to do something as simple as pull an object towards her without a good deal of concentration. But she was stubborn, if not sensitive, and so she grit her teeth. Brute force or the Force, she was going to figure out what was wrong with Padmé.

It was then that realization hit Alma. In the way the dress fell, a swollen belly was just barely visible. Alma fell silent, and withdrew her hand from Padmé's forehead.

And there was the force. There was Padmé’s force signature. But there- very faint, so you could only see it if you were looking, was another light.

“Senator,” she breathed. “You're pregnant.”

Padmé’s eyes shot open wide. She grabbed Alma’s wrist. “Please, you can't tell anyone.” 

“I don't understand, isn't this a good thing for you?” Alma asked, wrist still in Padmé's vice-like grip. 

“Knight Twill, politics are complicated.” She stammered. Her eyes were full of desperation.

Alma finally nodded. “I won't tell.” Padmé let go of her wrist. “Why don't you try to clean yourself up, and I'll get you something to settle your stomach.”

Alma heated some water and went about making the mixture, sorting through her hip pouch to find a little root wrapped in cloth.

Blissroot was farmed all across the galaxy, and it made a good tea. She added a little sweetener for taste, then poured it into a cup for Padmé.

She was cleaning up the chopped blissroot when Padmé reappeared. She seemed better. She had removed her makeup and wore a loose dress that Alma assumed were her nightclothes. Alma handed her the cup.

“Is this some ancient Jedi elixir?” Padmé joked.

Alma smiled. “It’s just Blissroot. I grow it myself, and it's been so helpful in so many situations that I always have some on me."

Padmé took the cup. "Do they teach that sort of thing to all Jedi?"

"Oh, no. I just like plants - and have four younger brothers." She added. "I remember helping my mom with sickness during the oldest of them."

Padmé sipped it gratefully, listening to Alma’s tangent about her brother. She hadn't been present for the other three at all, so she held on to the memories she had of the little guy.

As she cleaned, Alma took a moment to feel the way the force wrapped around her.

It was like canvas, to her. Stiff, but able to be folded. And so as the water ran over her hands, washing away the red juice of the beetroot, Alma plunged into the force.

She could feel it around her, now. Took some work to get here, but the life force of everything, from the insect buzzing in the windowsill to the sleeping politicians in the other room.

She waded her way through the force, and reached out to the little bundle of life within Padmé. Just a few cells. The beginning of a new human.

With careful, purposeful folds, Alma manipulated the force around it. Hiding it, swaddling it.

The signs of pregnancy, Padmé could hide. The force signature - well, Alma could mask it.

There had to be a very good reason for Padmé to hide such cause for celebration, and Alma had pledged to do all she could to protect the Senator.

As she withdrew from the smothering grip of the force, she smiled gently. “I hope you feel better. Goodnight.”

“Wait, Ms. Twill.” Alma paused. Padmé was clutching the cup. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Senator.” Alma wasn't used to being thanked. It was her responsibility as a Jedi to help.

“Please, Padmé is fine.”

“Then you can call me Alma.” 

She heard Padmé repeat her name as she slipped back into the hall.

* * *

When Alma returned to her own bed at the end of the next day, she found a blue leaved plant sitting there, a note stuck into the soil.

_Alma - thank you for all your help._

_Anakin mentioned this would make a good gift._

_Padmé._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plants! Plants! Plants!


	5. Failure to Abide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alma gets some bad news. Anakin ignores boundaries and gets told off.

  
“Do you know where Master Unarin is?” Alma asked a temple worker, who shook his head and moved on.

It was the day after the festival, which had gone on without any major upsets or skirmishes. Alma had just returned to the temple, and after hanging the blue plant - she learned it was called a rominaria flower, and would eventually grow some wonderful blossoms - and giving it a thorough misting, she went to find her friend.

But Samwin was nowhere to be found. After replacing the few items she had brought, Alma had naturally gone to look for her. But no one had given her a solid answer, not even the younglings that so often followed her.

She was walking through the temple, brows furrowed, when she was stopped by Master Windu. “Welcome back, Twill."

“Master Windu, thank you. I'm looking for Master Unarin,” she explained. “I haven't heard from her since before I left for Naboo.”

He nodded solemnly. "I have some news for you."

Master Windu stood with Alma in one of the planning rooms of the temple. They stood around the large, ring shaped hologram console.

“Unarin went missing on a scouting mission.” Windu said plainly, drawing out the path of Samwin’s flight. “Three days ago.”

Alma’s eyes widened. “Did she have any troops with her?” She mentally cursed herself. Get a grip, Alma.

Windu glanced over at her, clearly reading her distress.

“She was alone, assigned to scout out rumors of a Death Watch camp on Skriket. She reported none such camp, plotted a course to Coruscant and lost all contact with us.” 

The back of Alma’s throat burned. She was gone. “Any rescues planned?” She asked, trying to remain as collected as the powerful man in front of her.

Windu didn't look at her, shutting down the hologram of Samwin’s flight. “Yes. Kenobi will be leading the rescue. Of course, Twill,” he turned to look at her in the eyes. “You can't afford to entertain false hopes.”

Alma set her jaw. Her grey eyes locked with Master Windu’s dark ones. “Master, I’d like to be part of that mission.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”  
  


* * *

"Samwin’s last coordinates were here.” Alma stated unnecessarily. Kenobi, sitting in the pilot’s seat, knew exactly where they were.

“No debris.” Obi-wan murmured, half to himself. “She wasn't shot apart.”

The pair had decided to follow Samwin’s path backwards. After huge expanses of nothing, this particular patch of nothing made Alma even more uneasy.

Obi-wan glanced at her. “You’re upset.” 

What was with Jedi Masters and making observations? Alma wondered spitefully. “I’m relieved she wasn't shot apart, but that just means this is another spot where she isn't.” Alma sighed. “I’m worried she’s injured somewhere. Or worse.”

Obi-wan nodded understandingly. “I know what it’s like to lose a Master, Alma.”

Alma. He was using her first name.

“The person you're most loyal to, most connected. It’s difficult. But if Master Unarin isn't out there, you have to accept it.” Obi-wan stressed.

"Of course." Her tone was steadier, finally, although her mind still raced.

"We'll put out a scan for any distress signals." Obi-Wan assured her. "Go ahead and take a break, this is wearing on you."

Alma obediently made her way to the back of the cruiser, sitting cross legged and trying to meditate. Her heart ached.

Samwin, her Master, her friend. Gone.

When Obi-Wan gently informed her they were out of time, she had managed to compress all those feelings into a solid lump that sat in her throat. 

* * *

"Miss Twill, forgive me for asking, but you seem… troubled by something."

Alma had returned to her duties almost immediately, and this particular morning, was silently keeping guard as the Chancellor reviewed some bills coming up for vote. Anakin was off doing… whatever it was a Skywalker did in his free time. 

Droids, she recalled. Tinkering away at some droid. Or building a radio, maybe.

"My apologies, Chancellor." She responded. "I'll redirect my focus."

He peered at her kindly. "If there's anything I can do to help, I'm more than happy to assist."

That familiar pang of grief hit her again, and she lowered her gaze. "I'm afraid not, sir. I've… lost a friend. My old Master."

"You poor dear. What happened?"

Alma found herself relaying the events - leaving out the most classified details - that Samwin had been sent on a mission, that she had been lost on the journey home.

That no trace of her had been found.

Palpatine nodded understandingly through all of this, and then raised a hand. "My deepest condolences, Alma, but it seems… forgive me, it seems like there hasn't been confirmation of Master Unarin's death."

"...you're right."

"You seem to have a close bond, surely this would be of some assistance in locating your master?" He offered. "To feel her through the force?"

Maybe he was right - but emotions and the force were not to be mixed. 

Alma's face must have betrayed the sinking feeling she had in her stomach, because the Chancellor pursed his lips and shook his head. "Ah, but it's Jedi business, isn't it? Not my place to mettle."

"I hate to distract you from your work, sir." She ducked her head and turned to watch the door. 

* * *

It was the middle of the night, now, but Alma couldn't sleep. She paced in her quarters, and while her armor sat cleaned and polished in the corner, she kept her lightsabers clipped onto her belt as she padded around, barefoot.

The knocking on the door of her quarters startled her, and she almost withdrew her blades, before realizing how out of sorts she was. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, set down her sabers on the desk, and opened the door. It was the middle of the night, this had to be important.

Skywalker stood there, arms folded.

She wasn't sure who she was expecting, but certainly not him. Not now.

Nevertheless, she forced a light smile onto her face. "Master Skywalker. Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, Twill. You're keeping me up."

She blinked at him. She was barefoot, her pacing certainly didn't make that much noise. "I'm… sorry?"

He sighed and pressed his way past her, stepping into her quarters. Despite her hushed protests, he began to survey the room.

"I don't understand… " He remarked, as his gaze fluttered around the additions Alma had made to the room, noting the rominaria flower with some satisfaction. He reached for one of her lightsabers.

Alma gripped his wrist before he could reach it. "Don't."

He seemed surprised by that, and she pounced on the moment of silence. "What are you doing here, Skywalker?" He tried to tug his wrist away, but Alma held tight. "And I am sick of your non-answers. Don't try me." 

He stopped trying to pull his wrist loose, looking down at her in surprise. "You really are upset."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." She hissed, dropping his wrist like a wet fish. "And you marching in here, uninvited, middle of the night - grabbing my lightsabers, it's not helping!" Her voice was raising now, all her frustration and fear bubbling up.

"Twill - Twill, I'm sorry." Anakin hurriedly apologized, looking progressively more worried. "You're really upset -"

"My master is dead." She managed through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry." And to Alma's surprise, he actually looked it, nodding slowly and backing away from her things.

"I could feel your frustration from the other side of the temple. I thought I could fix whatever was causing it." He sighed. "I should go."

Alma found herself reaching out towards him. "No, please - stay."

"Really?"

She drew a shaky breath. "I'm about to break some rules."

Now that drew Anakin's attention. "Breaking some rules?"

"If Samwin is still out there, my emotions - our bond, could help reach her." She explained, pleading. "But I don't know how."

"What makes you think I know how?" He crossed his arms.

Alma looked to her desk, where the night lights of Coruscant danced across the light of her unsheathed blades, catching and reflecting on the words inscribed there.

_Trust in the force._

_Trust in yourself._

"I have a feeling."

Anakin slowly sat cross legged on the floor. He smirked. "Okay. Let's break some rules."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of my prewritten chapters - updates will be a little slower now, but rest assured we'll see some more of Alma and Anakin.


	6. Into the Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alma and Anakin search for Samwin.

It took Alma a great deal of effort to attune to the force, as it always did. She could feel Anakin's concern -  _ other  _ people's emotions were always easier, weren't they? 

But eventually, the familiar suffocation of the force surrounded her. She grit her teeth.

_ Samwin. Her friend. Her master, mentor, leader. _

_ She loved her like kin. She ached now, alone. _

_ Samwin. _

_ Samwin… _

"Where are you?" Alma murmured, letting herself fall further into the force.

She felt Anakin suddenly, beside her. "Let's look together." He suggested, and Alma projected affirmation towards him. It was slow going, as she fought her way through the stiff energy. Her mind was sluggish - she shouldn't have reached so far.

Anakin seemed to notice. "Alma? Stay with me."

But she wasn't with him anymore. She felt her body go limp, and suddenly… suddenly she didn't feel so sluggish.

"...Alma?"

Samwin's voice. It was weak, desperate.

She opened her eyes, gasping at the sight.

Samwin looked like hell. Half of her body was badly burned, charred and peeling away from her. Her right arm was practically gone, ending at the bicep in a terrifying mixture of charred flesh and what Alma recognized as lightsaber burns - self cauterization.

"Samwin. I'm here." She managed, kneeling at her Master's side, surveying further damage. "What happened - please-"

"You're not really here." She responded softly, laughing. "I'm finally dying."

"You're not, I promise." Alma tried to take her unburned hand. She passed right through her, like a ghost. "Tell me where you are, please, we need to find you."

"You don't need me anymore."

"Samwin,  _ where are you?" _

She didn't respond, continuing to stare off and laugh weakly.

Wait. Ship. She was on Samwin's ship, she could read the data - she got to her feet, and read the instruments, blinking back tears.

"You're on Taksgar." She pushed to the ship window, looking out into the inky blackness. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Time to go home.

When she opened them again, Anakin was shaking her. "Alma, come on -"

She looked up at him, eyes steeled in determination. "I'm going to need a ship."

* * *

Just a few hours later, Alma was on her way, her eyes steeled on the console in front of her. She wasn't piloting, Anakin had been insistent that if they were taking  _ his  _ ship,  _ he  _ was doing the piloting. She was grateful, even if she was still anxious.

Anakin was concerned. She could feel it coming off of him - and see it too, the way he glanced over at her every few minutes.

"So." He finally spoke. "We're going to Taksgar."

"Master Windu told me she was going to Mandalore." Alma's said flatly.

"...outer rim is a long way from Mandalore-"

"I'm aware."

Anakin winced. "Okay, that's… fair." A moment passed. "I'm only trying to help, you know."

"We're both going to get in a lot of trouble for this."

"I don't  _ care,  _ Skywalker. She needs help." 

He nodded. "I know. We're going to get her. She'll be okay."

Alma wanted to believe him.

* * *

It was nearly impossible to scour for Samwin's ship from orbit, and so Anakin brought the little Y-Wing down and onto the planet, while Alma retrieved the beacons she had grabbed from the armory. Bright enough to be seen for miles, she hoped they would be enough to light up the incredible darkness that was the shadowed lands of Taksgar.

"Are you afraid of the dark, Skywalker?" She found herself asking, handing one of the massive beacons to him.

"No. Just what's in it."

With a little bit of jerryrigging, Alma was able to strap the beacon across her chest. As Anakin followed suit, she looked up at the sun, doing mental navigation. "Twilight city isn't too far from here. We can get speeders there and then…"

"Then into the unknown?" Anakin chimed in.

"Exactly." She adjusted the beacon and began to move.

_ Samwin. We're coming for you. _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I wrote this story in 2016 - and you can still probably find some early chapters of it on the internet. I'm rewriting and expanding, (and cross-posting to multiple platforms) and I'm glad to have you along for the ride. Reviews fuel me, they're very appreciated.


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